by Lena Skye
“I thought that it would be good to hire you for it,” Victor agreed. “And that way, too, I would have you nearby.” He smiled slowly. “The other part of it was that I’d like to have someone around who I could have sex with whenever I felt like it.” Danielle raised her eyebrows at that, setting her fork down.
“If you’re only interested in hiring me to be your personal whore, I’m not interested,” she said.
“No—no, not that,” Victor said quickly.
“It sounds an awful lot like that, from what you just said,” Danielle countered. “Maybe you should explain it a little more clearly to me.”
“You wouldn’t be paid for sex,” Victor said. “Your salary would just be for the charitable work—and I can offer you a hundred thousand dollars a year for that. But you’d be working in my office, in contact with me throughout the day, and considering how good things were last night…” He ventured the risk to smile slightly. “I had hoped that you’d be willing to incorporate a little pleasure in the business.”
“The sex would strictly be an opportunity thing—not what you expect from me as an employee?” Victor nodded.
“You would get paid the same whether or not we had sex,” he told her. “And if you told me that you didn’t want to ever have sex with me again, I’d still want to give you the job.” Danielle wasn’t so sure about that, but if she could trust this man not to threaten to fire her over her not being available to him on demand, she thought that one hundred thousand dollars a year was a huge step up from her current job.
With that kind of money, she could get a better apartment; she could consider—after a year or two—even getting a proper house that she’d own in her own right. She could get a decent car. Images of what life with a well-paying job could mean to her flashed through her head.
“Would you be willing to put in a contract—private, obviously—that my employment with you would have nothing to do with whether we have sex?” Danielle picked up her fork and gathered up some egg on it, carefully depositing the protein onto some of the toast that Victor had made for her.
“As long as you agree not to disclose that there’s a contract between us for that, I would be happy to,” Victor said, smiling more bravely. “I want things to be clear between us: the sex is purely for fun, and if there’s any point where you don’t want to have sex with me, whether it’s a one-time thing, or it’s something you don’t want to do ever again, then I respect that.”
“I think I can work for you, then,” Danielle said, smiling a little herself. “When would you want me to start?”
“Monday,” Victor replied, matter-of-factly. “And I would expect—since you’re going to be essentially representing me—that you can take the rest of the weekend to get a suitable wardrobe, if you don’t already have it, to act as my surrogate in dealings with charities, as well as to be seen in the office as my employee.” Danielle’s eyes widened.
“Just what kind of wardrobe are you expecting me to buy? I have professional-looking clothes,” she said.
“I would want to see you in the office in an upscale wardrobe,” Victor said. “I am, of course, willing to pay for it—it would be part of your compensation package: hair, makeup, clothes all to be deductible expenses.” Danielle stared at him, shocked, wondering: did he think he’d been slumming it with her the night before? Did he think that her outfit the night before was cheap? She felt her cheeks heat up.
“I’m not sure who or what you think I am,” Danielle said slowly.
“I think you’re someone who’s working towards not just being legitimate, but successful,” Victor replied. “And I think part of that is dressing up from where you’ve been. I’m sure you have work-appropriate clothes—but what I want for you, when you’re in the office, is for people to think immediately that you’ve never struggled at all.” Danielle ate some more eggs, some more toast, and tried to think of whether or not Victor’s idea was insulting.
“So, you want me to be...fake,” Danielle said, trying to keep the hint of judgment out of her voice.
“Not fake,” Victor countered. “I want you to look absolutely impeccable, and I’m also sure that with a little bit of a shopping spree, you would look like you never even heard of the Bey family.” That—all at once—made it clear to Danielle what Victor was going for: he was running a business that he was very careful to make look as legitimate as possible.
It was—to the best of her knowledge—fully legitimate, but with his background, having been funded by the Sokolovs, he would want everyone, and especially people working directly below him, to be completely clean.
“I need to go and get my hair done, anyway,” Danielle said. “I can go shopping for a few outfits to hold me over until I get my first paycheck from you.” Victor shook his head.
“I have accounts at several stores at King of Prussia Mall,” Victor told her. “I’ll call them and let them know to expect you—I’ll need your full name—and you buy whatever you like, within reason, for two weeks working with me.” Danielle stared at him.
“Two weeks?” Victor considered.
“Three,” he said. “That would be a good start. Once you start getting paychecks, of course, you can buy whatever else you want and can afford—but you’ll have a monthly stipend of five thousand dollars for clothing and makeup.” Danielle for a moment could only continue to stare at him. Five thousand dollars a month for clothing and makeup? “And hair, too—if you need it,” Victor added. Danielle blinked, and made herself take a sip of orange juice.
“That...is quite an allowance,” she said. That was more than half the amount that he would already be spending on her new salary, per month—at least, before taxes. He’s a billionaire, she reminded herself. A multi-billionaire. He could pay you three times that and not even notice it’s missing.
“This weekend, I am not going to take it out of your stipend for the month,” Victor said. “You’ll be given that card to use probably after your first week or so—I have to order it. But for this weekend, I’d say try to stay within about ten thousand dollars.”
Danielle tried not to show her shock again, but she felt as if she had suddenly been thrown into the ocean itself, far out of her accustomed depth. Ten thousand dollars to spend on clothes and makeup? So that she could play at spending money on charity and projects for a billionaire who wanted to get rid of as much of his wealth as possible? And—most of all—this job falling into her lap the morning after she’d been nearly caught up in a police raid on a bar owned by an organized crime family?
“I’m going to need you to send me that contract we talked about before, before I’ll be willing to accept this is real,” Danielle told him, suddenly certain that he was setting her up for some kind of humiliating—or potentially life-threatening, if the police showed up—incident. She imagined herself insisting to some high-end shop clerk that she had permission to put things on Victor’s account, only to be arrested for attempted grand theft.
“I will get my lawyer to draw up your employment contract and I’ll send you—separately—the one about our sex lives, all by this afternoon,” Victor told her. “You should have plenty of time to get some shopping done—actually, do you want to start Tuesday? That will give you Monday, too.” Danielle considered that and nodded.
“I think that works,” she said. She thought, a little grimly, that she wouldn’t be emailing her current boss until she had the contract in her hands, and until she had been able to make the purchases on Victor’s account without being arrested or harassed. It all seemed far too good to be even close to true.
Chapter6
Victor waited outside of his office for Danielle’s arrival, wondering why he felt nervous. It wasn’t his first day on the job; he had nothing really at stake. He’d gotten reports from the shops that Danielle had visited over the weekend and on Monday, and she’d stayed well within the limit he had set—and the personal shopping clerks she’d worked with on his advice, sent by text message once he’d sent h
er the contracts, had all had good things to say about Danielle’s choices.
What in the world do I have to be nervous about? Victor smoothed his hands against his suit jacket, and shook his head, glad that none of the other assistants he employed were there to see him in his present state. He did have a certain image to maintain. Maybe he thought—somewhere, deep down—that Danielle had played him? That she’d taken the money he’d offered for her shopping spree, and then decided to keep her job anyway?
But she’d sent him the signed contract—she’d committed. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to try and get out of a deal with a billionaire who could take her to court for breach of contract—she was too smart for that, too aware of how powerful wealthy people could be.
When the executive elevator pinged, announcing someone had arrived, Victor checked the time on his phone. It was six minutes before the time that he’d told Danielle to arrive in his office to report for her first day of work. When the doors to the elevator opened, revealing Danielle, Victor felt his heart starting to beat faster—yet steadier all at the same time.
She looked absolutely stunning, but at the same time utterly professional, in a loose, off-white blouse and a skirt that fell to a few inches above her knees, along with a pair of boots that came up to just below her knees—those, Victor thought, she had already had.
A fitted blazer completed the look, along with a few pieces of jewelry, and her purse, probably also something she’d already owned before the weekend, was plain but well-made. She had also, Victor noted, gotten her hair done over the weekend: it fell to her shoulders in small braids, maybe the thickness of Victor’s pinky finger at most, pulled back from her face to make the most of the makeup she’d applied that morning. She looked utterly professional, and—Victor thought—possibly more beautiful than she had the night he’d met her.
“Right on time,” he said with a smile.
“That was the plan,” Danielle countered, smiling too.
“Let’s discuss what your job is going to look like,” Victor suggested. He’d spent a good portion of the rest of the weekend—and Monday—making a job that he’d only really come up with in passing, as an excuse to lift Danielle out of her situation with the Bey family and keep her close to him, into a proper, real position. They had the contracts signed, but she would have to meet with his accountant and lawyer later on in the day to make sure all the rest of the paperwork—tax information, salary arrangements, all of that—was official and legal and documented.
Danielle nodded, and Victor led her into his office proper, unlocking the door with his key fob. “I’m assuming that there’s more to this job than just finding things for you to spend money on and having sex with you,” Danielle said, when the door closed behind them. Victor chuckled.
“It is going to be an actual job,” he said. “I made sure of that.” He stepped around his desk and sat down, gesturing for Danielle to take the seat on the other side of his work surface.
“So how is this going to work?” Victor watched as Danielle took her seat, looking confident and curious in equal measures.
“Basically, your official workday is nine to five,” Victor explained. “Your job here is to do research, and talk to people, companies, charities—the whole deal—and report to me with the information I need to know to make it happen.” Danielle nodded.
“I’m assuming you’ll want documentation—finding out not just where the money will go, but what it will do, things like that?” Victor considered the question.
“Basically, I want you to use my money constructively,” he replied. “The goal is to start out spending five hundred thousand dollars a day, and eventually ramp up to a million dollars a day.” He saw Danielle’s eyes widen.
“I don’t know if I can find out a way to productively spend five hundred thousand dollars today,” Danielle said. Victor laughed.
“Obviously you need lead time,” he pointed out. “The goal is five hundred thousand a day, and then a million a day. But for the first few weeks—maybe even the first month—I’m going to expect you to come up first with a plan for locating the right sources for it, and how it’s going to work.” Danielle looked slightly away from his face, and Victor could see that she was thinking—thinking hard. After a moment she met his gaze again.
“Do you have any particular causes you want me to look at in particular?” Victor raised an eyebrow in query to that question. “I mean—do you want me to focus on kids, or on poverty, on drugs…”
“Oh! Well that’s another thing I am going to want you to figure out,” he said. “At this point, I want you to find the best ways to spend my money to give back. If you have a different place every day getting five hundred thousand dollars from me, then that’s fine. The endgame is to spend the rest of my life giving away at least half of my wealth, if the US Government doesn’t intend on taxing it out of me.” Danielle smiled slightly, and Victor saw the devil in her eyes.
“So, if they make a major tax reform and start taxing you 90% over 500,000, I guess I’ll be out of a job?”
Victor chuckled. “I’ll still be a billionaire. Nobody needs this kind of money—especially not to hold onto.”
Danielle looked a little skeptical. “I can’t believe someone who worked hard to become a billionaire doesn’t want to be a billionaire,” she pointed out.
“I can spend a million dollars a day for years and still be a billionaire when I die,” Victor countered. “Just based on how much money I have right now—and I’m going to keep on making money.”
“So why keep on making money if it’s not fair to have so much of it?” Danielle raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t be arguing you out of this, since I just quit my job—but it seems a bit…” Victor chuckled again.
“What’s life without work?” Victor shrugged. “People want to give me money to make things happen, I’ll take the money—but I’ll funnel as much of it as possible right back into the world. It doesn’t make sense to do otherwise.”
“I guess I can get that,” Danielle told him. She thought for a moment longer, and then nodded again. “So, spend the first few weeks making plans, and then we’ll start spending your fortune making things better, I guess.” Victor smiled and nodded.
“And of course, there’s the other aspect of it too,” he said. That—that was what was making him anxious. He’d never been the type to have someone there “on demand,” more or less, to have sex with. He’d been clear with Danielle that he didn’t expect having sex with her to be part of her actual job—she wasn’t there to have sex with him, she was there to spend his money. But that was a major “perk” of the job for both of them; at least, he hoped that Danielle saw it as much as he did as a perk.
“Obviously, I read and signed that contract,” Danielle said, her voice taking on a cautious note. Victor felt the little flutter in his chest as he watched her, knowing that she would be available for him—knowing that she wanted to be available for him—at random hours in the day when they needed the stress relief of getting each other off.
“I want to make it clear to you that the sex isn’t part of your job,” Victor said. “If I send you a text or an email—or whatever—and you’re not into the idea of having sex, I’m not going to get pissed at you for telling me no.”
“I do like that you included in the contract that this has no bearing on my employment,” Danielle said with a little grin. “Made me feel a bit better about agreeing to it.”
“I’m serious when I say that I want this to basically be a perk—and for both of us, not just me,” Victor said, meeting Danielle’s gaze. He smiled slowly. “We can both turn to the other one for sex during the day—as long as our schedules are free, and we both want it. Either one of us can say no.” Danielle nodded, still looking a little dubious at his reassurances but not entirely rejecting the idea.
“I guess you’re going to need me to do some paperwork and all that, right?” Danielle asked. “Unless you were hoping to get in our
first session on the clock?” Victor chuckled.
“We have all day,” he pointed out. “And there is paperwork you’re going to have to do—a lot of it.” He sighed, knowing just how much of a pain it was going to be for his lawyer, his accountant. Technically Danielle would be working for him directly, not for the company; but her office was going to be there, next to his, a little alcove where she could work privately doing research and making proposals. There was—he would show her later—a little door in her office, unmarked, that led not only to her private bathroom but also to a hallway linking her space with his.
But all that would come later; for the moment he had to get his new assistant legally under the auspices of his personal corporation and make everything airtight from the standpoint of the government.
“I’ve got my lawyer and my accountant ready for you to go over everything, and I’ve got a meeting to get to,” Victor added. “But I’ll be back before lunch. Pick a place for us to order from, and we can have a meeting of our own then—just to get you oriented, so to speak.” He smiled at her and Danielle returned the grin with more than a hint of heat in her eyes. It was—Victor thought—going to be very good indeed to have her working for him.
Chapter7
Danielle sat back from her desk and looked around the little office that Victor had given her, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. Even after a week of working for him, she still couldn’t quite credit the fact that she was, legally, making one hundred thousand dollars a year plus almost as much in a clothing allowance, all for the job of spending a billionaire’s money on charity and community development projects. Just the fact that she had her own office was a thrill in itself; she had never had an office, private to herself, ever before.
She hadn’t felt even slightly guilty giving her former bosses her letter of resignation; it had been something of a risk, considering she hadn’t actually started the job—but she had a contract, had signed it and seen Victor’s signature on it, stating that she had the job. She had been able to buy the clothes on Victor’s accounts without anyone so much as batting an eyelash. It had definitely begun to dawn on Danielle that wealthy people lived in an entirely different world than the one she’d inhabited her entire life.
